La manana

Good morning. Goodness, but it's been a long time since I've written here. Here is a, um, very sad excerpt thing from recently:

These days nobody sings me to sleep.
These days I miss all the sunrises
and sunsets,
I count the clouds as they go sailing by
Until they become a thick blanket,
hanging low over the hills
These days I am a goldfish.
And the light seems further away
each passing week
And the mountains laugh at my loneliness,
the rivers mock my anger
I can't agree with myself much
anymore,
I have burned all the memories I could find
But the sadness of you remains a great weight.

You refuse to shoulder the blame,
and so
it's lodged itself in my spine.
Well, it's nothing new,
I suppose,
though it's been a while
since I've felt its sting.
The whiskey helps,
the howling of the desert wind -
when I can find it -
but you're lost in the lie.
I hope it's every bit as awful.
I hope you ruin your boots
and knock out a couple teeth, at least
falling down the mountain you built.

I'm ashamed to think I ever loved you -
the coward;
the manipulator.
You thought money and silence could stand in for love.
You're still the selfish teenage boy
I'd always believed you'd grow out of.
But you can't trust a fantasy -
I've learned that enough times over.

I hope that deceit serves you well.
You know, when you don't treat your wounds -
they fester.
and you bring your insides into plain sight
Where the day spills its truth on you,
you cannot hide.